


Ceramic Figurines

by MajorEnglishEsquire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Hugs, Light Angst, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Mom Jokes, Season/Series 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 17:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8294221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorEnglishEsquire/pseuds/MajorEnglishEsquire
Summary: "I wasn't gonna say anything but the hugging thing is kinda weird," he tries.
  
  It feels really bad coming out of his mouth.
  
  "I know," Cas shrugs. "You think I'm weird. That seems to be how this works."
  Post 12.01 Keep Calm and Carry On





	

He's getting used to it. Which is (Dean sighs) ridiculous.

He spins the last of the ice around his glass and doesn't refill it because Mom's sitting right there and he already had one with dinner.

Feels kinda messed up to drink around her for some reason. Pounding them back is something really reserved for late night lore scouring sessions with Sam and going shot for shot with people at the bar he really wants to fuck.

But they chat and it's nice being in his right mind for that. To watch Sam tell mom thirty years of life, watch Cas fill in with thirty years of history, and to be able to top it off with thirty years of their _family_ history, himself. It's important to be present for that. He understands that, so it just leaves him with a bit of a conundrum after she kisses his head and wanders off to bed.

Sam follows and Dean doesn't. Sam has a... weirdly different thing with Mom. Something that sounds like whispers and soft hugs and includes really hard conversations. Sammy needs that. He needs different things here. He never learned to need Dad as much as he needed Mom because he learned to live without Dad's support.

But he never did learn how to live without _her_.

The conundrum is that it leaves him and Cas at the table for, like, the tenth time. He could fill his glass again and delay this or admit he wants to go to bed. The only other possibility is that Sam might swing back by and claim Cas and they'll walk off somewhere else. But more likely Sam will sit back down with them and open another beer and stay there. And stay there. And stay there.

And when Dean's finally aching to go to bed, he'll have to do this in front of Sam.

Dean isn't entirely sure where this came from. He thinks a combination of factors - something to do with what he said to Cas before leaving to blow himself up. Something about that hug and how Dean entrusted Sam to Cas. Then surviving it, not waving Cas off when he arrived at the bunker, thrilled to see him alive, and... Mom.

Cas hugged him again and. Okay, he understood that. They're a family and Cas thought he died. But then Mom happened. Mom who musses his hair now, still looking at him curiously when she wakes up in the morning. Mom who kisses his head before bed. Mom who hugs him and tells him to be careful before they leave the bunker.

He feels that - her narrow-eyed amazement at him - is just a reflection of his own. Being able to feel her touch, being cared for again? Feels fucking alien. It definitely feels right, but-

But strange, still. And he wants to adjust to it but this is something they need time on.

He can see it in her eyes - she's not trying _too hard_. She's just trying. And it feels strange, but she's ready to work on it.

So, Cas.  
Cas sees this.

And Dean, he realizes he was emphatic on the point - that Cas is a part of this family.

It's kind of a wild fucking relief that he chooses to stay with them, now. He doesn't sleep, but he's there when they wake up, there to wish them goodnight.

Sam always claps Cas on the shoulder, even fucks with his hair, walking by, whisking off to his room at the end of the night.

Mom? Geeze.

Mom's taken to putting her hand against the side of Castiel's head to turn him. She says, "Goodnight, angel."

Cas says, "Sleep well. I'll be here."

And she smiles and goes.

Every damn night he promises Mom he'll be here. And he has been.

Dean has no idea how long this will last. It feels fragile. And too good to be true. And he wants to preserve it.

But now, at the end of every night, Cas stands and hugs Dean tight.

Again: he doesn't do this to Sam.

It makes a certain kind of sense? Cas and Sam are good, they're close. But Cas was his best friend before Dean started to consider him a Winchester.

And Dean has put Cas through hell.  
And Cas has put him through hell.

They're a little different.

Dean doesn't look at that feeling too closely, but it's. Goddamn. Ten days of this. And it's getting really fucking hard not to look at it with this _pristine familial shell_ around their time together.

You don't _tell someone_ \-- Look.

Alright? You don't tell someone, two minutes to midnight, with the world looking like it's about to end or that, at least somebody's gonna go down stopping it--

You don't tell someone at that point--

You don't--

He said all he could, okay? It was hard enough to get that past his throat. It was hard enough to say aloud that Cas is his best friend, that he feels like Cas is _his family_. That's hard enough with-

Fuck.  
He spins the ice some more and it's fading to water in the glass.

It's hard enough to feel, day-to-day, like he feels for Cas without having to say that shit out loud.

He said all he was _capable_ of saying. And that's gotta be it. Storybook closed, okay?

They've fucked each other's lives up enough. He can't go-

Goddamnit.

He can't go around spilling his guts like his love for Cas is _love_.

Dean just needs something so simple from this situation, considering that, in the world outside the bunker, it's turning out to be another complicated fucking time, with hunters-- Men of Letters, whatever - _other humans_ rising up to try to stomp them out.

When he just got his Mom back.  
_Their_ mom.

She's this fourth, stabilizing force right now. Keeping their heads calm and asking the right questions while they reinforce the bunker's security and... guiltily clean the dust out of the corners.

She's beautiful. And he missed her. And he needed her so damn much. And shit is complicated enough.

He looks at the bottle but he doesn't refill his glass. It doesn't feel like Sam is coming back up to the kitchen.

"I wasn't gonna say anything but the hugging thing is kinda weird," he tries.

It feels really bad coming out of his mouth.

"I know," Cas shrugs. "You think I'm weird. That seems to be how this works."

Which is kind of a hilarious answer. The more bold and flippant Cas gets the more Dean kinda—

Dean tries not to smile much and kneads his thumb into his head.

"Oh," Cas says. "You don't like me... doing that," he realizes. "Um." Cas nods. His head bobs like a dashboard figurine. "Okay."

God. Dean rubs at his right eye.

When Cas hugs him, he... he kinda pops up on his toes a little and grabs him big and sways him some. Every time he does it is like when he got home, realized Dean was alright. Like he's so relieved. Not like the resignation of when Dean left to meet Amara.

Not like after he'd said they were brothers and wished he could mean something else.

For their safety, for his own sanity, you know? He probably shouldn't ever try to rewrite that line out of their lives.

Dean makes another mistake, then, biting at his bottom lip, he glances up at Cas and he's-

Cas has got that smile on like, _ah, okay, it was nice while it lasted, guess I fucked it up again_. He drops the smile, then, and spreads his hands out on the kitchen table. He doesn't push up to leave, though, and the idea of it sends Dean's heart to tripping over itself. Because he does _not_ want the result of this to be that Cas leaves in the night. That he isn't there in the morning when he told Mom he would be.

For some weird fucking reason, he feels like that -- even after all the revelations about Hell and the Mark, _all of it_ \-- that's what would set her mouth ticking down a bit in disappointment. They're working on this Whole Family thing. It's not what any of them are used to but.

They're fucking workin' on it, alright?

And if he were responsible for Cas slipping away while they hole up working on defense, that just. Wouldn't feel right.

Maybe it's okay, you know? Maybe he can handle it. This one close-tight thing him and Cas do now. The hugging doesn't suck. It is nice, of course. It's not awkward, it's.... it's nice.

He thinks of Chuck.

Of this whole big blast-off that didn't end him after all.

His insides feel clean. Dean knows that what he does with his life is important.

Didn't really even need God to tell him that he does a good job protecting this damn planet.

He does. They do. They work their asses off for every ungrateful moron and every thin win and even after a brutal loss- they've still worked for that. Like, fuck, do they _earn_ those asskickings.

Chuck hated Amara forever. For eons.  
And Dean? He was supposed to die.  
And they aren't supposed to have their Mom. But they do.  
Sam's been a fucking hero to this world - he wasn't supposed to get snatched and tortured. But he got through it in one piece and he didn't give up when that would have been the easy option.  
And Cas - he wasn't meant to be slumming it down here, discovering silly YouTube channels and learning what it's like to have a mom, a brother. But he is.

Maybe.

Maybe what they do is rewrite stuff.

For example, it could be as simple as this:

"Nah, I didn't mean that. I like the... the hugs, they're just," he shrugs, "it feels kinda silly but. I guess I don't know why. They're good."

"Good?"

"As... far as hugging goes, I mean. I just," he waves his hand around, "I like the hugs, you don't have to stop."

"Oh. Good. I wasn't going to stop but it's nice to know you don't think of it as a burden," he reaches over slowly and snags Dean's glass out of his hand. Dumps the water out on a napkin and pours another finger of whiskey in with the remaining ice. Slides it back over with his fingertips.

"You little shit," Dean sighs.

"Am I um." Cas starts and blinks and Dean waits for him. "Am I allowed to call her- I mean 'Mary' seems somewhat formal and you did say that we're... that, well, we're like-"

"Family."

Cas nods.

Dean thinks about it. He doesn't know how he'd feel about Cas calling her 'Mom'.

He knows that Cas can see it, though, and that's something. Cas knows why she's special, why she's important.

"You might have to ask her that," he finally decides.

"That sounds like an awkward conversation it would be best to avoid, actually. So. I'll stick with her name, maybe."

See, he sits across from this man - this _person_ as far as Dean's concerned - and he loves so much of what he's become. Every weird fucking minute of it. Every strange inch of him.

Look at how many times Cas has been forced to rewrite himself, as it is. He's got his jacket hanging up in the war room. He's more casual than Dean's ever seen him, sitting in the kitchen, waiting for his goodnight hug. Waiting to wish Dean well until he sees him in the morning.

Dean drinks his whiskey down. It's been so little he's barley got a buzz on.

"I didn't tell you everything I was thinking. I didn't tell you everything I meant. Before. I wouldn't say I _lied_ \- I just didn't wanna tell you the whole truth at the time."

Cas squints, trying to suss that out. "That sounds like it qualifies as lying. Before, when?" he leans closer on the table.

"Before," Dean motions vaguely. "In the car. Before Amara." He's gonna go on but-

"I actually wouldn't count that as lying. You've been trying to reclaim yourself since the Mark came off, Dean. You just try to protect yourself in any way you can," he shrugs. "I've been seeing it and I haven't always understood it, but you know what you need for yourself better than anyone."

"Jesus shut up," he rubs his eye again.

They're both silent.

"Stop being understanding," he clarifies, touching the tumbler again.

"Am I supposed to be angry? Dean, you aren't willing to give me more and I-- I do understand," he shifts. Flexes his jaw, looks to the wet rings on the table. "I understand where you've put our boundaries and I can live with that. You've given me a family here," he shrugs. "I'd be a... piece of shit to look at that and say you didn't give me enough. It is enough. You are a good man. And _you are enough_."

"God, that's what I'm talking about," Dean says, half-laughing, all exasperated. He didn't expect Cas to get what he was _getting at_ but Cas pays fucking attention now, he's a functioning mechanism of their whole.

He knows exactly what Dean means.

"I want more," finally fumbles out of Dean's mouth and he doesn't know why. It's not at all what he was prepared to say. He's not a writer, he can't edit what he told Cas out of the universe. He's said it twice, now: that Cas is a brother to him. He's said it twice in the wrong fucking spirit. And reapplying those words every time he feels like this, isn't going to change the fact that he didn't mean what he's said in the first place.

"You deserve more," Cas says, still looking at the table, fingers trailing through the condensation, now. Pulling it out in lines, in the pattern of a sun.

"From you," Dean clarifies. "I don't know how to say this and I don't want to be saying it. It makes me sound like a fucking flake and a liar and I know I'm not good at this. So I don't need you to be understanding when-"

"Tough. I do understand," Cas moves to stand up from the table. Comes to his side. "Come on. Get up. You need sleep."

Dean just.  
Looks up at him.

"I'm trying to tell you something here."

"I am not that dense, Dean. I still have one channel I can tune in on and nothing ever comes in as clear as you do. I'm giving you a silly hug and sending you to bed. Hug me back."

He waits.

So Dean shakes his head and pushes the glass up the table and turns to stand. He walks into Cas's arms and Cas sways them to and fro a little. His hand comes to cover the back of Dean's head. "Things are complicated," Cas says over his shoulder.

Dean doesn't know if things are so complicated that he's willing to miss this opportunity if he never has the balls to tell Cas that he's glad he said those things in private. Because they sound fucking ridiculous now.

He feels like a fool for having insisted on calling Cas... that. _Brother_.

He knows that the rule is you can't tell somebody you love them and then run off and sacrifice yourself to stop the apocalypse. That would have been a piercing cruelty to the both of them. But it's the damnedest thing:

Neither of them seem to end up dying.

"Things are always complicated," he rests his head against Cas's. Closes his eyes. "I think I fucking love you," it comes out sounding half-hysterical.

But Cas takes it as he usually does. "Okay. Is it going to make you feel awful if you have to deal with it? What would make you feel worse? To try it out, or to put it away?"

Dean can't... like he can't _feel himself out_ with Cas wrapped around him. So he pulls back. And breathes and moves to head to his room.

Cas follows. And when Dean gets in he waits at the door. Cas takes it for the invitation it is.

He comes in to stand by the wall while Dean kicks off his shoes. Unbuttons his overshirt. He stands there with his head cocked and watching Dean, waiting for whatever.

Honestly, if he has to cram this feeling back down under his ribs one more fucking time he's gonna start needing whiskey every time he sees Cas walk through the door.

He thinks, _come hug me again_.

Cas does, both hands flat on the small of his back, now.

If he told Cas he couldn't deal with this and said to stop hugging him and meant it, he'd be missing out on something. He should take this while he has the opportunity for it.

And if there were more? That would mean letting himself be held like this in front of Sammy. In front of Mom.

If he can't be who he is - if he can't feel like he _needs to feel_ in front of his family? What the hell has he been basing his life on?

He doesn't have to play grab-ass in front of the general public. He doesn't even have to kiss Cas in the line at the Quick Market.

What he can do is admit that he wants Cas to kiss his neck- which he does.  
Hold him tighter- which he does.  
Kiss his head- which he does.

And come to bed with him. To try. To see if he can wake up and feel this body next to him and not lose his mind in fear and doubt.

"I can lay still," Cas says, promising. "I will. Whatever you need."

No, he doesn't want Cas to be still. Doesn't want him not to go wander and explore while they sleep.

And he doesn't want Cas not to touch him. He thinks he can handle this. He wants to know what it would be like to live this way. To really live.

"You're _more_ to me. You are family, but you're more, Cas. I can't fuck this up. You're-"

"Thank you," Cas stops him. He tugs at Dean's shirt and pulls back.

Dean takes it off. Tosses it.

Cas watches it hit the wall and crumple to the floor. Swings his eyes back. "Will you be throwing your pants?"

Dean shrugs like a smartass, unbuttons and shucks them. Kicks them to the corner.

Cas seems annoyed. He doesn't like laundry on the floor. Huh.

He physically turns Dean. "Go to bed."

Dean climbs in and Cas plucks at the buttons on his cuffs. Rolls his sleeves up. Looks down and pulls to untuck his shirt. He kicks his shoes off and toes them under the bed. Takes his pants off and folds them.

He's got sensible striped boxers on. He's in a button-up and boxers. He scoots in next to Dean on the bed.

Dean gets up on his elbow. "How, um. How do you wanna-"

Cas reaches up to turn off the lamp. "Did you need music before bed?"

"Um. No."

Castiel reaches for him, now. And he holds Dean yet another way. This one more natural, warmer, and more restful than all the hugs.

Fuck.  
He wants this.

"I don't think I have to say it, but as far as I've experienced of love, I know that I'm in love with you. And I don't think I can be a brother to you. I think, even if this isn't what you end up needing, that we're something else to one another, Dean."

"Yeah. We... sure are _somethin' else_." He settles his head on Cas's shoulder.

He kisses Dean's brow.

Dean doesn't kiss back because he already knows that the first time it happens, he wants to be hip-to-hip with Cas in the kitchen, making the breakfast coffee, telling stories to Mom.

It occurs to him that maybe he deserves for this to feel like normal

«»

Cas kisses him again in the morning, his head and his neck. Cas waits for him to shower and they head to the kitchen.

Mom and Sam are in the library. He's showing her how to find good sources for a morning news fix.

Dean sets to making the coffee and when all the pieces are in place, the plug is in, the switch flipped to 'on,' he turns and almost nails Cas with his elbow. "Personal space, for fuck's-"

"This _is_ personal," he crowds in to reach for his coffee mug.

Dean doesn't feel nearly so much like kissing him when he's being-

Cas clacks it on the counter, first in line, by Winchester rules.

"Okay. Now you can kiss me."

"And stop fucking listening to my head," he gets Cas by the hip and yes, he does.

Cas kisses with his eyes hooded low. He waits for the second start before he cups Dean's face and -- just puts him where he wants him. Lays one more on his lips.

What is this? Like eight years of pain and angst and this is just gonna be normal?

Jesus. It's utterly normal.

"Do you know where the-- oh. Interruptiiing," Mom kinda sing-songs and starts retreating the way she came in.

Dean breaks away, "No, Mom, it's-"

Cas reaches past him again, almost pinning his back to the counter. "I've got it," he calls after her.

He comes up with another mug. Puts it in line behind his own.

"Thanks!" she calls, still heading back down the hall.

Dean blinks at him.

Cas shrugs. "She wanted to know where her mug was."

It's then that Dean realizes what happened here.

Dad married somebody smarter than him. An unsuspectingly skilled hunter. Someone intuitive.

And he's not his father. So at least he realizes what he's got. What a catch he's made.

"Pretty sure you can call her 'Mom'." That shouldn't choke him up but it does, just a little.

"I never had one of those. Thank you, Dean." He cups Dean's head. Stares a moment. Then reaches past him to grab Sam's favorite mug. Generously places it in line.

"What about me?"

"I'm willing to share if you'd like to be first, too."

«»

Sam notices, during breakfast. Laughs and offers to get Cas his own coffee cup. "This is my own. It just happens to be Dean's, as well," he passes it back. Dean takes a sip.

"If you're an angel, does coffee even effect you?" Mom asks, sips her own.

"It would take a mass quantity for me to feel any caffeine effects, but mostly I just enjoy it for what it is."

She tips her head. She can appreciate that answer. But a few minutes go by and she wonders aloud, "Humanity. You appreciate us for who we are, too?" she frowns, "It's just, you know. Angels. Seems like they'd be above it all."

"He was, at first," Sam smiles. "He could be a dick sometimes," Sam laughs a little and Cas smiles.

Well, that's not _un_ true. Dean shrugs.

"I was," Cas nods. Then wavers. "But you're not just some product," he pulls the mug back by the handle to cup it with both hands, lean over it. "Humanity can't be appreciated from above. Shoulder-to-shoulder? Yes. Many angels learned that too late. I'm down here and I love this. Love you," he says to Mom.

"Aw," she grins, and finishes off her eggs. "The mouths on all three of you, you wouldn't believe you'd become so sweet," she fakes a flutter.

Sam laughs.

"Shoulder-to-shoulder," she considers Cas's words. Mulls them over.

Cas finishes off their coffee. Uses Dean's shoulder to press up and away from the table.

Mom watches him. That same narrow-eyed assessment she's been absorbing her sons with.

She finally finishes her own mug and rises to take her plate to the sink. "I guess one of the benefits to having grown sons and an angel in the family is that I don't have to ask if you're being safe."

They're silent, tense as she starts cleaning her plate at the sink.

"I can't believe another one of these conversations is happening near me," Sam blinks. "Do I have to be here for this?"

"Dean is always safe with me," Cas says.

"You two's gross stuff just got grosser, seriously, do I have to be here for this?"

" _Our_ gross stuff??" Dean throws his balled-up napkin at Sam.

He deflects it and rolls his eyes because now he's... forced to pick up Dean's trash.

"They're insufferable," Sam gripes. "Did they tell you about their 'bond' yet?" he makes it sound smarmy.

Mom turns, drying off her hands, eyebrows raised. "There's a 'bond'? Is this a species thing?"

"Holy shit, you're right - I can't believe this conversation is happening," Dean blinks.

"Well, now I really need to know what kind of protection is involved," she nods.

Sam covers his ears, blows out a breath, and then picks up, all at once, taking his oatmeal to another room.

"Don't worry there's no risk of infection or reproduction," Cas says.

"Why are you telling her this???"

He turns to Dean like he's nuts. "She asked."

She gives Dean a troublemaking, shit-eating look over Cas's shoulder that he doesn't see because she turns it off before he turns back. "I will take care of Dean. I promise."

She smiles like she's all sweet and genuine and shit and- comes up to pat his cheek. "Castiel, sweetie, I'm just not wild about this online news business yet. Would you mind going out to get me a paper?"

"Of course," and because Dean's life just went from strangely normal to my-mom-is-teasing-me-about-my-sex-life Hard Normal, Cas turns to kiss him on the mouth and prompt him to finish his food and he leaves to find his jacket.

Dean is still wide-eyed and walloped when she takes the empty seat next to him. "Dean. Baby, I'll tell you this. We tried a lot of things in the seventies-"

"Oh my god."

"And as a hunter, I just-- I might have some anatomy questions-"

"Oh My God," he bolts up at the table so hard he knocks his knee on the wall.

She's shaking, nearly in tears laughing at him by now.

He kind of tries to escape by busying himself with putting everything away. She drifts close again to help and he... just doesn't know how to handle these things.

Like. Good stuff happening and hilarious, warm stuff happening. His dead mom coming back to tease him about the angel he hasn't even properly slept with yet.

"If you need me to say it?" she pauses his movement with one touch to his arm. He meets her eyes. "I want you to be happy. Dean, I'll be happy if you're happy."

She smiles.  
She means it.

Yeah. He needed to hear it.


End file.
